


Saturday Night's Alright

by 3amepiphany



Series: The Boutique AU [1]
Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: M/M, The Boutique AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 06:26:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5364833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3amepiphany/pseuds/3amepiphany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just supposed to be a cup of coffee and a short chat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturday Night's Alright

**Author's Note:**

> So this literally was supposed to be a cup of coffee and a short chat but here we are, a one-shot that wound up in the neighborhood of 8k+ and will probably wind up being a dedicated AU now, because I can't let well enough be. Anyhow. This is for Boonini. Because wow. You rock. I love your art. It's also partially for me, because I just wanted the excuse to imagine Peepers in a punk jacket and the chance to play up the Hat as a magical bag of holding instead of a hat. Also I haven't ever used this sort of establishment as a place of employment in a story yet so, hey, look, an excuse to do that. What else to say here... hm. Oh. Some of this was also inspired by jouichi722's art of everyone smoking their cigarettes... So. Okay; adult themes, adult activities, adult language, smoking, drinking, drug talk, drunken bar fights, not beta-read. Are there archive warnings for these? I don't know. Take this as your warning.

The bell on the door rang as it opened forcefully, and the wind blew in the second shift roughly, nearly knocking the coffees out of her hands and tangling her scarf around her snout. "I got it, I got it, don't worry - Just... have a good night, alright? I'll see you when I get home," she called out over her shoulder. There was a muffled response, and she agreed with it and wiggled one of the cups as a substitute goodbye wave.

Peepers looked up from the catalog he had been flipping through, blinking slowly and trying to appear as if he hadn't just been ready to nap at the counter.

Sylvia struggled for just a moment to get the door closed. Once successful, she let out a big sigh, heading over to the counter. "Here is your coffee, black, no sugar, no cream, no fun, no nothing, as you asked for." She set down his cup and he reached for it like a lifeline.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he said, popping the lid off and basking in its scent for a very short moment. It was from the chain up the street, and it was a little burnt, but it was coffee.

"Thank you for switching shifts with me this weekend," she said. "Wander says hi. He'd come in, but... well, you know him."

He nodded slightly.

"Hey. Hey, here's a pleasant thing about not working 8:00pm to 6:00am. I know it's probably very literally been something close to four years since you've seen daylight on your own terms instead of at the end of your shift... But people actually get to go out and do things in the evening. Normal evening business hour things."

"I do normal business hour things before going to bed. 6:30am is a really great time for grocery shopping," he said. "Aisles are pretty empty and I get to watch normal business people passive-aggressively fight over the doughnuts."

His coworker shuffled around the store, sipping at her own drink and looking over the stock. "Normal dinner."

"That seems a little late for dinner."

"This seems a little late for coffee," she joked.

He shrugged. Peepers was planning an all-nighter. Hater had a gig tonight. It was best to just power through until his usual bedtime, well after the show. "I have a pretty good list of things I do on the rare occasions that I don't work Saturday nights."

"Wander doesn't," Sylvia said, point-blank, straightening some DVD cases on their shelves.

He shut the catalog binder. "No."

"Ehh," she wheedled.

"That was not a part of the agreement. It was a simple shift change with a coffee bribe. I did not ask for that."

"What?" she said, with a fake, confused lilt. "I thought you had."

Peepers shook his head. "Sylvia..."

"Oh, for glorp's sake, Peeps. He's going to be bouncing off the walls at home until I'm back. Take him to the bar with you. Share a drink or two. Make some conversation that isn't exaggerated yelling through the cracked door there," she said, gesturing to the store entrance, with its glass painted black and its mildly lewd posters. "I wouldn't keep trying to get the two of you to hang out outside of those blessed little Shakesbearean moments if I didn't think he'd be good for you."

"Ew, you said it again. You said the thing. I am not looking to date anyone, Syl, please."

"Didn’t call it dating," she emphasized, scanning the back wall from where she stood. "Did you sell that one piece we got in last week?"

Peepers turned around for just a moment to look at the shelf. He couldn't remember if he had filled the empty spot yet, it was pretty big. "Yeah, some nun came in and bought it. She was looking for something a little smaller and discreet but I talked her into that one."

"You're awful." She smiled at him, hand on her hip.

"Nah, it was a couple of young ladies looking for a gag gift."

The zbornak frowned. "I'd have felt so much better had you just let me believe it was the nun. That poor thing is gonna wind up in a closet, right next to a cheapy rubber flogger."

The phone rang, and Peepers reached to answer it. "Hole In the Wall, your Erotique Boutique and Adult Superstore, this is Syl speaking," he said loudly. She gave him a look.

"Mister Peepers, do you have to answer the phone like that every time?"

"It's Wander," he said, holding the phone out to Sylvia. She took the receiver from him.

Peepers set about clearing the counter off so that Sylvia could get her shift started with a clutter-free workspace for repricing the clearance DVDs. Despite being a horrid curmudgeon, he wasn't a total dick. He left her for just a moment to take a box full of extra stock in vibrators and card games to the back room, and was reaching for a sticker roll for the price gun when Sylvia tapped him on the shoulder. "It's actually for you," she said, wiggling the receiver until he took it, cautiously.

"Peepers," he answered.

The cheerful, twangy voice on the other end of the line greeted him excitedly. "You didn't answer my question, Mr. Peepers! I was genuinely curious. Mostly because I don't call the store phone often. I usually call Sylvia on her cellular. She tends to answer the store phone with a big ol' 'YELLO' and then waits for whoever's on the call to ask if it's the place they're looking for. I remember the first few times I'd ever called and I got so confused and embarrassed about it that I just started straight up asking 'Syl?' and that's been a pretty good fix for me. It also helps knowing now that she's the only lady on staff. Not that I think anything is wrong with that, I mean, I think it's important you have diversity in the store but it's also important to have someone who would be able to take no bunk from people who wanna give bunk. I also know sometimes it's not the most enjoyable thing having someone nervous about callling ask you awkward questions over the phone, but listen, I'm at the bookstore back up the corner and around it and I was curious to know if you had dinner yet?"

"Uh," Peepers managed. Sylvia settled into the chair behind the counter and started playing with the price gun idly. "No, but I was planning on going home for a meal."

"What could change that plan? I mean, you and I don't get to hang out a whole lot outside of work, or, actually, outside of the store front, you know.”

"Well, actually, not a lot could. Part of going home is picking up Hater. I do need another coffee though," he added after a short pause, because, well, he was going to have a long night ahead of him anyways. He gave Sylvia a searching look. She waved at him emphatically. “If you like, we can meet up, though I can’t stick around for too long.”

“Great!” Wander bubbled. “I’ll be inside browsing. See you in a bit!”

“Okay.” He ended the call, and handed her the phone back. “Did you put him up to that?”

“I may or may not have.”

“And now you’re putting me up to this.”

“I may or may not be.”

Defeated, Peepers grabbed his jacket, covered in studs, pins, patches, and a few paint stains, but left his bike helmet, and headed out. "I'll be back, I'm still parked out front… This isn’t a date," he told Sylvia as he rounded the desk.

She watched him leave with a small smile on her face. Why she never thought to suggest the idea to Wander to begin with was beyond her. It was so awfully adorable how quickly he took to it that she went almost a whole ten minutes before thinking about how long it would be until she was kicking Peepers' ass if it all went south. Hell, that little nerdlord spent enough time and energy trying to keep his interest in Wander vague enough to deter pursuit. It was just a small push on either side. A teeny one.

Closing in on the bookstore, Peepers stopped to finish the last of the cigarette he had tried to sneak in during his walk, pulling his phone out of his pocket with his free hand to check the time. A knock on the window next to him caused him to jump. It was Wander, a book in hand and that weirdly charming, super disarming smile on his face.

"Grop," he said, trying to look less surprised and more.... not surprised. He gave a small wave and pointed at his cigarette.

Wander gave him a thumbs up, and then pointed down at the book he was holding. It was a children's picture book.

He nodded, confused. Blew some smoke.

Wander gestured towards the cafe and headed that direction. Peepers watched him go, and then stubbed out what was left of his cigarette. "Just coffee, Peeps. Just coffee." He headed inside.

"I'm glad you made it! I know Sylvia and I had just gotten you a cup of coffee but she says you drink a lot of it. I really only have it every once in a while. It makes me jittery and excited."

Peepers laughed.

“Go on,” Wander laughed, too. “I know I almost always am jittery and excited, I meant more so. Being nervous doesn’t help at all. You heard me over the phone, gosh - I must have sounded a mess.”

“It’s fine; there’s no need to be nervous.” They ordered, and waited in silence for their drinks before finding a little table near the back corner of the cafe.

Wander put the book down and said, “Mostly I’m just all a-titter because I wanted to brag a bit about this to someone who isn’t Sylvia or an employee here.”

There on the cover was his name. "Oh, you wrote it! You're a writer?"

"Well, of sorts. It’s not my day job or my night job or a job-job or anything. I write songs for little ones, and I sing 'em here every weekend morning. I get a voucher for books and goodies, and a hot tea. Or an ice tea if it's hot out and I want something cold. There's an employee here named Ben who does really pretty art. He liked a few of my songs enough that he wanted to do some art, and then he found one that he wanted to turn into a book, so we got together on it. "

"Sylvia never mentioned it. So this is based on a song, then?"

Wander nodded enthusiastically. Good gracious, but he was beaming. 

The story was simple and yet very smart, full of illustrious words that lent themselves fully and easily to the artwork. It was like a love ballad. To the sky. Well, actually to space and the atmospheric reactions - the brilliant curtains of dancing colors that happened towards the ends of the colder seasons on the planet were a stunning and famous effect. For a children’s book, it was powerful. He was trying to put it to music in his mind. "You play for kids here. Do you play anywhere else?"

Wander put down the little folded up bits of the sugar packets he'd been playing with and shook his head. "I used to play at the park, long before I met Syl, but since then it's mostly been bookstores, cafes, a couple of libraries." He reached for his cup and finished his tea. "I can't really play at all the places that Hater does. My sort of music is a bit weird."

"Ah, speaking of Hater, the reason I couldn’t stay long. He has a show tonight."

"Oh! ...Hey, could I tag along? I'd love to actually make one of his shows! I don't have much going on tonight what with Sylvia switching your shifts. Thanks for doing that, by the way."

Suddenly the panicky feeling was back in the pit of his stomach. “Ah, all the thanks goes to her.” It certainly does, he thought to himself. “I don't get to work the day shift often. Hardly ever. It was a nice change and it worked out for me perfectly. We were hoping to get another show in this month - I don't know how well you like Hater's music, honestly. But.” Oh no. Don’t say that. Back up. “You’re more than welcome to come with." That wasn’t backing up. That was revving the engine and kicking it out of neutral into drive.

So much for just coffee.

“I’d really like that.”

About halfway back to the boutique Peepers realized that Sylvia and Wander lived within walking distance of the shop. He himself did not. His bike would definitely suit the both of them back to his apartment, easy peasy, but this was setting itself up to be one of those rom-coms that he’d often find Hater enjoying with a pack of beer every once in a blue moon. Wander sidled up to the building and settled against the little ledge of the window, taking a moment to dig through his seemingly endless backpack and resurface with a sweater to put on. Peepers stood there, still holding the door open, oblivious. "Oh," said Wander. "I can just wait out here, you're just gonna be a second right?" Peepers made the connection and tried really hard not to smack himself in the face on Wander’s behalf. Wander just grinned, cleared his throat and hollered, "Hi, Syl!"

From inside the store, Sylvia yelled back, "Hi, Wander!"

"I miss you!"

"How's it going with Peepers?"

"Real good, I showed him my book and now we're going to a show!"

"Y-you.... could stand here at the door and have this conversation at a normal level," Peepers said, nervously catching sight of some pedestrians turning the corner and heading their way. 

Wander shrugged himself into the sweater really quickly and shook his head, fluffing the fur at the top of his head. "I could, but sometimes it's just more fun to be loud." He wiggled his arms until his hands popped out of the ends of the sleeves.

Peepers took a calculated look at the sweater - big, green (almost the same shade as his backpack), handmade. It had a giant yellow star on it. A gift from a family member? Or maybe Sylvia knit and refused to bring it up in conversation. Who ever had made it, they had made it slightly larger than unnecessarily large for Wander's slender frame, or for someone with something like it. The sleeves bunched at his wrists and the hem came down to his knees, the neck ribbed, thick and cowl-like. It looked cozy.

Sylvia came to the door. "Hey, guys. A show? Your show? Hater’s show?"

"Hater’s show," Peepers said with a heavy sigh.

"...You're taking Wander to go see the Harbingers. At Awesome’s dive bar, I assume?"

"Yeah, actually. Should I not?" Peepers looked over at Wander, shouldering his bag again, and then back at Sylvia, suddenly very worried that this was the short path towards a kick in the face. She was always so protective of the guy. Borderline murderous, from most of the stories she would tell. He wondered if she was already regretting this, and half of him was very pleased by that idea; the other half was still trying to parse together the fact that he was hanging out with Wander. Not dating. Hanging out.

"I'm kinda thinkin' of it as a guy's night out," Wander said, rocking back on his heels and that wide smile on his face.

Sylvia nodded slowly.

Peepers cleared his throat and said he needed to go grab his helmet so they could get going, and squeezed past her, inside.

He grabbed it off of the floor of the back room and made his way back up to the front of the shop. Sylvia was talking to Wander quietly. "I understand I had told you to play with the edge of your comfort zone."

"I'm playing it like a song, Syl. I never thought I'd get to have a Rumspringer of my own."

"You're not Vamish, Wander. You've been dressing Binglish for a while now and you know how to drive, and you do drink."

Wander pointed at Peepers. "Tonight I'm drinking at a bar, though."

"Get him home safely," the zbornak said sternly, holding the door open enough for him to squeeze past her again. Wander turned to face the street for a moment as some of the hotline and club flyers taped on the backside of the door fluttered outward.

Peepers gave Wander his helmet - the giant lightning-shaped spike on the top of it waving about a bit as he tried to adjust and buckle the strap under his chin. “I get to ride on your bike? Wowee,” he asked, supremely elated. He turned back to Sylvia and gave her a small pose and a big toothy grin, and asked, "Who wears it better?"

She laughed. "Alright, alright. I gotta get back to work and I'm sure you guys need to go pick up bonehead."

"Oh, oh, I just remembered - I left sticky notes on the new boxes that need to be inventoried. They don't need to be stocked, just counted." Peepers pulled his keys out. "Let's uh... let's get going, Wander."

"So how was your day?" Wander asked him as they were stopped at a red light, leaning forward so he wouldn't have to yell. His arms were snug and right up under Peepers’ own, hands laced across his chest. His balance was intuitive and fluid, which made up for his long legs getting in the way a bit, keeping Peepers mindful enough of his driving and compensation and yet just distracted enough. Conversation, now, well. It would probably be a cakewalk if it weren’t right in his ear.

"Wasn't too bad. The daytime weekend crowd is a lot different than what I'm used to. Had a couple come in to buy some poppers and they made it feel like an illicit drug deal."

"....Poppers? You guys sell poppers there? Aw, gee, I sure do love those, but they give me a bit of a start. I suppose that's part of the fun, though. Pulling that string and seeing all that confetti fly everywhere is the better bit!"

Peepers' grip on the brake let loose for just a moment as he realized that Wander was talking about the actual party favors and not the party-party favors, and the bike jumped forward a bit. A pedestrian gave them a sordid look as they passed through the flickering headlight, and Peepers gave him an apologetic shrug. "Ah, nah, um, poppers are... they're a sex thing. People use them during sex."

There wasn't an immediate response. The light turned green; Peepers revved the bike and pushed it forward. They went another three or four blocks at a slow speed before stopping again. Finally, Wander spoke. "I don't get it. Well, I think I do. I mean, it seems a little uncomfortable using them in the way I'm thinking of them being used. Do you... do you face them outward? Or i-inward?"

There was a soft flip-flop feeling in the bottom of Peepers' gut, and he cursed under his breath. "It's... Wander, wow, it's a chemical you huff. You inhale it - they call them poppers because they come in little glass ampules you have to break, or "pop" open."

"Ohhhh," Wander said loudly, with an easy, natural laugh. "Oh. Wow, alright. I'm totally out of my wheelhouse here. But, you know, if you want to talk about wheelhouses, I'm your guy."

"You don't talk to Sylvia about her job too much do you?"

"Hardly. It's not really... I'm. It's all sort of really weird to me." The light turned green, and Peepers felt him tense up against him as the motorcycle shuttled onward, hugging him tight. This was surely the most awkward bike ride home he'd had since that night Awesome had taken mollies instead of Altoids while they waited at the pizza parlor for their pick-up order.

"So you mean she doesn't come home and vent her weird work stories to you?" He realized he was going to have to be really careful about what he chose to talk about from this point onward.

"Not really."

After another quiet block or two, Peepers turned down into an underground parking lot, and announced that they were at his place. Wander took the bike helmet off and spent a few moments trying to get it through the door of the elevators before managing to do so without pinning Peepers in the corner or against the wall. "Thanks for letting me wear this," he said, wiggling it a little. "It's nice and it feels pretty sturdy. Super shiny, too. Was that neat van down there Hater's? The one with the flames?"

"Yeah. Hard to miss, isn't it? That's the tour van. The band logo was his idea, but the flames were mine." Exiting the elevator with the helmet was a bit easier, and they made their way down the hall.

"Touring was pretty great. We didn't have a van - it was just me and Syl and some good ol' orbble juice."

"I wonder if I'm not asking Sylvia the right questions when she and I have the weekday overlap. Ah- I'm right here," Peepers said, jingling his keys a bit and unlocking the door. He ushered Wander inside and took the bike helmet from him, setting it aside. "Hater! I'm home, buddy! Ready to go? I'm ordering some take-out, we can grab it on the way to Awesome's. Do you want green or red sauce on your enchiladas?"

From the hallway came a voice. "Green. And no rice. I hate rice."

"Double beans, you got it." Turning to Wander, he asked, "What can I order you from Hexar-7-berto's?"

"Um, do they have anything a vegetarian could eat?"

"I have a menu on the fridge," he replied, and stepped aside to nab it. "Can I get you something to drink?"

Wander set his backpack down and took a seat on the edge of the big sofa, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. "No, thank you." Peepers brought the menu out and he looked it over quickly, settling on an option that sounded well enough. After the order was placed, he commented politely on the "artwork" on the walls - Hater's dated action-fantasy posters. "I especially like that one of the lady with the dragon, reminds me of a couple of friends of mine. Real good, real kind people. Nice castle."

"You said that you toured," Peepers said to bridge the conversation back together.

Wander smiled, kicked his sneakers a bit, and nodded. "Yeah, it wasn't much, just sort of went wherever we thought would be a neat place to visit. Some places we didn't actually play, some we didn't get paid to play, some places we stuck around for a bit because we resounded with the locals real well. Nothing like Hater. I hear you guys have been to a couple of different star systems in the past on a full ticket run."

Peepers laughed. "Well, we weren't headlining, but yeah, it was a trip. Hopefully he can get billed for header after this next record, but until that gets finished and promoted, we're playing here at home."

Hater's hulking, sulking form came out into the living room, carrying a couple of guitar cases. He already had his stage getup on and his A-game look on his face. That meant only one thing, and suddenly Peepers felt very uncomfortable for a different reason this evening: Dom would be at the show. He glared daggers.

"Shit," Hater muttered under his breath. setting down one of the cases and pulling at the hood of his weird cape.

Wander waved.

"Peepers, you didn't tell me you were bringing a date."

Wander's smile widened awkwardly. "Hi, Hater."

"Uh, Hater, you remember Wander, Sylvia's roommate," Peepers caught himself, on the verge of starting the same argument they'd been having over and over recently. "He's coming to the show tonight."

"Yeah, I remember. Cool. For some reason I remember you being taller. Or at least I feel you should be. Anyways. Not that I was listening in, but I totally was. Musician, right? You can help with soundcheck and setup. Good to have another set of hands to help. Are we ready?"

The ride to the bar was quiet and quick, and Peepers refused to let Wander pay for his meal. As the rest of Hater's crew came out to unload the equipment from the van, parked on the curb, they ordered drinks and ate at the bar, making small talk with the staff. Hater disappeared to the green room. They had an open tab for their crew, so Peepers told Wander he was welcome to it, and asked how he felt about being put to task for the evening - he didn't have to if he didn't want to, and Hater probably wouldn't even notice.

Wander shrugged, tearing the label off of his beer bottle and looking down the way at the stage. "It's fine! If you need the help, I'm here, and I'm capable."

"Cool. I'm gonna head out for a cigarette really quick." To his surprise, Wander joined him and asked him not to tell Sylvia. She didn't smoke anymore, and he hadn't had one himself since she stopped. Peepers carefully lit two at once and handed one to him, and then pocketed his lighter. They stood down towards the corner a bit, trying to stay out of the way of the other watchdogs as they brought in coils of cable and the drum stands. They didn't get much conversation in, as Awesome arrived.

His driver dropped him off at the curb and he headed straight for Peepers, the big toothy grin on his face spelling trouble. "Peeps, how're things?"

"Good. They're good. This is Wander," he said, gesturing to his company. "Wander, this is Awesome. He owns the place. And a few others around here."

Awesome looked down at Wander and laughed a bit. "I figured you liked them taller. Anyways. A little break from inventory for you tonight? You know, one cock, two cock, red cock, blue cock? Oh, the places you'll come? Get it?"

He shared an awkward, nervous look with Wander before changing the subject. "Thanks for letting us play here again so soon. Did you ever figure out the opener situation?"

"Yeah, actually, Magma Carta's playing. I wanted to text you about that but with the tired look on your face it's like you already knew." The shark shrugged a bit, and Peepers could literally hear more threads snapping in the muscular jerk's tight, torn and sleeveless shirt. He tried not to give in and react to the news in an outward manner.

"I'm pulling an all-nighter, so I feel like shit, but thanks for letting me know I look it."

Awesome snapped his fingers and pointed at him. "It's gonna be a packed house tonight, bruh, I hope your guy can keep his cool and follow her up properly." He went inside using the back entrance around the corner, greeting a stage hand wheeling a crate of pedals out of the back of the van.

Another shut the doors to the back of the van and tossed Peepers the keys. "There's no need to pull it around the side, the staff said the opener came around with their equipment a while ago and headed off to dinner. They'll be back soon."

"Thanks, Pat." Peepers stubbed his cigarette out and turned to Wander, who was only half done with his. "Need help finishing that?"

Wander exhaled and nodded, handing it to him. "I've heard of Magma Carta before."

"She's too good to be an opener, I think. And a lot of other people know that."

Between the two of them, the cigarette disappeared quickly, and they went back inside, sitting back at the bar. After a short while, someone yelled at Peepers, "Setup's done, ready for soundcheck, sir."

"Hand him the axe, Tim," Peepers said, pointing at Wander, who bashfully hopped down from the bar stool and followed the tech up to the stage.

Tim handed him the guitar and he adjusted the strap around himself. It took him a moment to switch through to flat-picking, but he tuned it quickly and started playing a song that sounded like an Iggy Starbeam hit.

Peepers got excited. This was incredible. "Here's your mic check, Todd."

Wander's eyes widened a bit, and he stopped playing, and rolled up his sweater sleeves again, as they were falling down. "Uh, alright. Let's see." He stepped down from the shallow stage for just a moment to grab a napkin off of the closest table, then folded it up and wedged it under the bridge. Instant banjo. He picked out a simple version of some folk song.

It was good. Heavenly. Perfect.

And then Tim broke free from the spell and interrupted him to say they had a pedal for this effect, this wasn't going to damage the strings, was it? Peepers was about to lose his shit, but someone else beat him to it.

"Let him finish."

Dom stood in the side exit, the door propped open a bit. She held her cigarette outside, and she was smacking her gum, her undercut hair hung in her face and her makeup was smeared, but she was such a sight. And Peepers frantically hushed everyone, because Hater was still back in the green room and Grop forbid he see that she was here yet. She took a deep drag of her cigarette, stubbed it out and exhaled, and then came inside. Her signature, oversized red flannel shirt fluttered as she entered and shut the door behind her. She wore a Sleety-Kinner shirt under it, full of holes and the hem stringy and tattered. There was a glint of light off of the egregiously big "#1 DAD" belt buckle she had on. Peepers shook his head.

"Hah, aw, drat, I forgot where I was," Wander said, picking idly. But then he started the lead-in of "Dueling Banjos". She got right up on the stage and grabbed at the the V that was still waiting to be tuned. No one stopped her. After a hot moment of tuning it and the sound guy playing with the amp settings, she answered right back.

Peepers prayed that Hater wouldn't come out to see what was going on. He prayed that he could sit there and enjoy that euphoric look on Wander's face as Dom brutally shredded the call-and-response number like a madwoman.

And then it was over. Everyone that had shown up early for the show or to just have a drink was silent, just for a second or two, and then there was an eruption of applause.

She leaned down and shook Wander's hand, asked him a question, and laughed as he pulled out the strip of napkin he'd been using to tamp the sustain on the guitar. Dom motioned to the bar, and they unstrapped the guitars. She wasn't too gentle with putting the V back.

Hater bellowed, just off of stage left.

"Oh my Grop," said Peepers, hopping down from his bar stool and rushing over. "Hater, HATER, stop!"

The taller lady rolled her eyes, tucking her hair behind an ear. "Peepers, let him get it all out."

"You don't understand, it's like an endless fountain of bullshit, he'll never get it all out." Peepers put himself between Hater and Dom, and surprisingly, so did Wander.

"I don't want her playing before me! I don't even want her playing after me! I don't want her sharing any billing with me!"

He went on yelling, and suddenly, Wander stepped forward and with a big sigh, gave him a hug. He stopped. Silently, he looked down at Wander, and then at Peepers.

Peepers shrugged. Dom shook her head and stepped past the group to the bar. After a minute or two, she came back with a stack of glasses and a bottle of liquor. "Green room, now, all of us. Even your date, Peeps. Ballsy little guy."

She was very deliberate in pouring out everyone a double measure, even Peepers, who declined and gave his glass to Hater, and then she sat back against the soft couch cushions, smirking. "So you've got bones to pick with me. Pick 'em, Hater. We have forty-five minutes and the bar is filling up."

Hater skulked.

"Hater, I didn't know she was playing tonight until about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes ago," Peepers said, and Wander nodded. "Can we count on this to be put on hold until the end of the show? Or can we count on you to figure something out right now?"

The room was quiet. Finally, Dom turned to Wander, who quickly downed his drink and wheezed. "So wow, you. You play."

"Banjo, mostly. Guitars, not often. That was a nice little treat." He leaned over to Peepers and said, "Thanks for that."

She reached for the bottle and poured him some more. "How long have you and Commander Orb been seeing one another? It's been a bit since I've seen either of these two nerds so a new face is a bit of a surprise."

"Oh, not... We're not--this is... Is this actually a date?" He looked at Peepers and got a blank look.

"Is it? I don’t--"

"It's no big deal," she said with a laugh. "I've always pictured Peeps with someone taller."

"Why does everyone keep saying this?"

Hater drank down his glass and sat quietly, hiding a bit under his hood. For another thirty minutes he sat, while the other three had small talk. And when Dom finally got up, she made a gesture to the bottle and welcomed them to finish it, and stepped away to get ready to go onstage.

It wasn't until the music started and the crowd got louder that Hater spoke. "She is the stupidest amount of cool I have ever seen. I'm fucked, either way. And I hate it."

Wander leaned forward and pat him on the knee, and took the bottle and poured them both another glass. Peepers waved off another helping, as he was done for the night. He needed another cigarette, so he stood and grabbed his jacket off of the back of his chair and excused himself. Once outside through the side exit, he pulled his phone out and shot Sylvia a text.

"What does Wander do for a living?" he asked.

"I'm confused. Is Wander not with you? >:/" was the reply.

"He is."

"Then ask him? >;/"

He came back inside to see Wander watching Dom and her band from the side of the stage, and he immediately high-tailed it to the green room. Hater was sprawled out on the couch. The bottle was still sort of full. "I honestly feel like that guy should be taller. Everyone says it because you're hella short. I also feel like he should be a lot meaner."

"Should I have pushed with Sylvia again instead?" No answer. "I'm not making a second guess. I'm not getting into that argument with you. What did you and Wander talk about?"

Hater grumbled, "You know."

"Of course, I do, that was my second guess."

Hater pulled the hood of his cape down and grumbled some more.

Peepers sat down, using his phone to check his email and settling into the chair. A couple of their crew members drifted in to grab personal items and leave again. "He's too nice, then?" he asked, eventually.

"It's kind of creepy."

"It is a little uncanny, I suppose. Sylvia talks about him like he's the reason the stars shine, though."

Wander wandered back in and sat on the couch, smiling. He was obviously buzzed. "She's pretty great. Good stage presence. Like a queen." He looked at Hater. "Yeah. Good stuff."

"She's a queen. A goddess. I don't even know where she came from, one day she was just there, playing music, and wearing that stupid flannel shirt and with her hair all dumb and her dumb guitar."

"Peepers, I think Hater's in love."

"Am not," Hater said quickly, getting up and pacing around. "When is her set over? I'm opening with that one song about how I want to kill everything."

Peepers heavily considered pouring himself a drink. "We can't change the set list a tenth time. The rest of your band is going to quit. I'm going to quit. Awesome's going to quit. I honestly don't even know which of your songs you're talking about, you have at least six about killing everything."

Even with almost half of the crowd there for Magma Carta, changing the set list in a final moment of panic, and his bassist breaking two of his strings in one song, Hater's band very nearly brought the house down. By the end of the set, Awesome's bouncers had thrown out a fair number of fans for trying to crowd surf. The count for unruliness was at least double that. The Harbingers of Doom were well-paced and well-loved, and from side stage, Peepers was having a really great time watching Wander watch them play. Especially Hater, who definitely let his trademark lightning fly from his fingers tonight.

As the last song reverberated through the building, that heavy, slightly sharp but still pleasing hum coming off of the stacks, Dom slipped out to have a smoke so she could watch the crews could break down and make sure her equipment was loaded properly. And to meet some of her fans. Wander stayed just long enough to watch Hater down half a bottle of water and spit it all over the cheering crowd, and then he tugged on Peeper's shirt sleeve and made a gesture towards the side exit. Peepers nodded, grabbed his jacket off of the broken chair he'd set it on earlier, and waited for Hater to break stage -- he signaled he was going out for a smoke, and Hater leaned down and said loudly (he hadn't taken out his in-ears yet) that he'd be out in a minute. The hulking rocker disappeared into the green room again, with his band members in tow. With such a packed house there was no rush to leave, and Peepers knew it.

He stepped outside.

Somehow Wander had found another beer, and Peepers was certain that it would be the last one; if he had to call a cab and ditch the bar to get him home for the night, he would. It turned out to be Dom's, and that he was just holding it for her while she signed merch and posed for photos.

"Have you talked to her about Hater at all?" Wander asked him point-blank as he fished around in his pockets for his lighter. Usually he was over this sort of conversation well before Hater would even open his mouth about it, but he gave pause.

"No. No, I haven't. I don't really feel like it's my place. Honestly I'd rather he not, but for being his manager of sorts, it's going to sound weird and mean, but it's better for the music."

"That's very weird and very mean." Wander frowned.

Peepers shrugged. "I remember hearing once that she's not into stuff like that, anyhow. People call her very weird and very mean, too. Also hear she has the heart of a volcano."

"'How do you expect to bloom flowers in your hands?'"

He looked over. "What?"

"It's from an archaic poem somewhere, 'When you have the heart of a volcano how do you expect to bloom flowers in your hands?'"

"Oh. She literally might be made of lava, though, is mostly what I meant by that. It's why they're called Magma Carta." Wander made the connection, and nodded in understanding. "I like what you said, though. That was nice... For what it's worth, she knows how he feels about her. That kind of clues me in, at least, that it's probably just one-sided. Hence the awkward hash-out in the dressing room earlier."

They watched her quietly for a bit, sharing the cigarette he had lit, and Peepers could practically feel Wander thinking. What about, he was curious, but he wasn't sure if he should ask.

Out came Awesome, and Hater and his drummer, followed by a group of fans. The burly shark hung back, sidling up to Peepers and patting him on the shoulder. "He did good tonight."

"What a curnt," said a guy making his way back towards the door and being surly and a little over-physical with others around him as he went.

"What was that?" asked Hater, the beer can in his hand crinkling a bit, bending some. He'd only been half-listening to a fan at the moment, but the rude dude's comment had caught the fan's attention, too, so he'd stopped as well.

"It's fine, it's fine. The guy came to see my tits, apparently. Not me, not Hater. Not the bands. Just my tits," Dom called from the railing close to the sidewalk. The girls she was posing for photos with laughed. Peepers and Awesome glanced at one another nervously, ready to clear the little patio area and get everyone back into the green room, immediately. Awesome made a gesture to Dom and the smirk on her face dropped into a scowl and she turned to thank the girls quickly before the bouncer on the far end of the area came forward to help her open the barricade a bit so she could get out to go around the front of the building. He followed her, and for a moment the girls looked as if they weren't sure if they should or not before shuffling off around the corner as well.

The guy used a few more choice words, all of them very obscene, to describe Dom. "Creez, what a curnt--she's just bailed, look at that. All mouth but not enough of it proper," he slurred, having turned around and saw that she had left.

"Well that's not very nice! Boy, I don't know where you learned to talk like that about a lady but there's no excuse for it!" Wander gave Peepers the cigarette and before Peepers could say a word at all, Wander was yanked up off of the ground by the collar of his sweater and punched in the face. A split-second later, Hater came at the guy, roaring hellishly and getting in a few good, solid hits before slamming him into a table and some stools along the wall. Awesome and the bouncer that had been sitting right inside the door pulled them apart as quick as they could, and got to contacting the police. Several other people on their phones during the altercation were suddenly yelling about having video, how Hater was great, asking Peepers if the guy in the sweater was okay.

"Dude, your date is fucked," Awesome said, heaving a bit. “How to recover from that?”

Hater, sat on the ground catching his breath and looking for all the world like he could go another ten rounds, grumbled, "How're you gonna recover from Sylvia?"

"Grop," was all Peepers could say.

Having just been up the street at another bar, a couple of policemen showed up fairly quickly, working through the crowd on the sidewalk and getting around the barricade railing. Awesome took them aside and explained the situation, and they went ahead and radioed for an ambulance - to take the busted up jerk at the center of all of this and to make sure that Wander was going to be okay to go home.

Tim came out for just a moment to let Peepers know that the van and the trailer on the bassist’s truck were loaded up, and that Dom and both bands were in the green room. The drummer followed him back inside. Peepers sat on the ground next to Wander and lit another cigarette.

"Ow," the frumpled lump of fur said.

"Yeah, 'ow'. Lay right there. That guy almost mopped the floor with you."

"...It feels like he did." Wander tried to roll over onto his back. Peepers wouldn't let him. Awesome stepped over and leaned down to take a look and ask him how he felt. "Good," he managed after a moment.

"Good?!" they both asked, incredulous.

"Well... also like I'm gonna throw up, but good. My eye, not good."

"Just hang out for a second, broski, they've got someone coming to look you over, and they'll probably want a statement, too. Still wanna make with the eyeball after this?" Awesome grinned.

Peepers blew some smoke. “Wander?”

“Huh?”

“What is it that you actually do for a living?”

“...I’m a psychotherapist. I work with kids.”

"Hey, here are the guys who fought for my tits," yelled Dom as the group staggered backstage into the dressing room after statements and care were given. Everyone cheered, and Hater collapsed onto the little loveseat half out of embarrassment and half out of exhaustion. Wander sat next to him, holding an ice pack to half of his face with one hand and reaching over for a high five with the other.

Hater obliged.

Peepers parked the van along the curb carefully, taking his time about it. Hater said he'd wait for them; he didn't really feel like getting up at the moment. Peepers shut off the engine and looked over at Wander in the passenger seat. The poor guy looked in sore need of a nap. His swollen eye hadn't gone down yet, his split lip opened up again as they were leaving the bar (because smiling) and his stained, stretched sweater needed a good soak and a reshaping. "Well. Let's go."

But Wander didn't move. He sat there playing with the strap of his backpack, that tired little frown still on his face. "Peepers, can I ask you to clear something foggy up for me?"

"Awesome promised not to press charges. I don't know if that was explained to you. I think Hater was still trying to scoop you up off of the floor like a bowl of spilled gelatin."

"No, no, Peepers. It's been unclear to me since I called the store up. I just wasn't sure if we could actually call tonight a date or not."

Peepers contemplated the steering wheel cover for a moment. "Do you want to?"

“I feel like we’ve been trying not to all night, like it’s a bad thing, but I don’t want that to be the deciding factor when I say no, not really."

"Look, Wander, I'm an idiot."

"He's an idiot," echoed Hater sleepily from the back. Wander grabbed his backpack and got out of the van, shutting the door carefully. Peepers scrambled after him, his jacket catching on the beaded seat cover as he untangled himself from the seat belt.

"I have the keys, Hater, just sit tight," he said sternly before he slammed the door shut. "Wander, Wander, listen, I'm an idiot. I didn't think it through. I was excited. Nervous. I should have waited until we could have planned something better than this."

"Me, too. Peepers, I'm not mad. I had fun. But yeah, I can't honestly call this a date. I don't know what I was expecting out of it. I got excited, too. Probably expected too much."

"At least something different, right?"

"Surely." He shifted his backpack and winced, and struggled with his balance for a moment. "Listen, though. If we gave it a bit and then tried it again. No bars, no shows, no fights..."

Peepers cleared his throat. "Why wait? Would you... would you want to go out again sometime? Dinner, coffee, a movie. No bars, no shows, no fights."

"...Mister Peepers, are you asking me on a date?"

"Come to think of it, Wander, you didn't ask me to go on one, technically, to begin with. So yeah. Do you want to?"

"If Sylvia doesn't kill us before it, yes."

They both looked at the flickering "OPEN" sign in the window of the store. Wander looked back at Peepers, squared himself off as best as he could, and went for the door. "Wander, wait. That's an adult boutique."

"And?"

Peepers didn't have an answer. He reached for the door to hold it open as Wander walked inside, and then sighed heavily, following him. Wander hadn't gone far, and he smacked right into him from behind, and they crashed into a rack full of flogs. The commotion got Sylvia's attention, and she hollered a vague threat before realizing it was her roommate and coworker.

"Peepers? And Wander??" She came over to help them straighten up. "Wander, you came inside the store. How drunk are you? How drunk is he?"

Wander picked up a feathered crop and waved it about, good eye wide with wonder. "It's fluffy, like me. Boy, this sure isn't something I'd thought would be in here. What's this other end for? A wrist-strap so you don't lose it? It's kinda thick."

She gasped suddenly, taking his little face in her hands and exclaiming, "Your lip! Oh, my GROP, your eye! Oh, Peepers, what did you do?"

He put his hands up, not wanting to wind up with a shiner, too. “Sylvia, please, I can--”

“You came inside the store, Wander, what is going on?”

"Sylvia, it's okay, honest. I'm simply," he tickled her face with the feathers, "expressing a natural curiosity. I made the choice to come in here. I want to know more about what you do all day." She turned a murderous glare at Peepers.

"Wander, that's not helping. Put the--" He grabbed for the crop. "Put that--" He snatched it away. "Sylvia, we can explain. I can explain, it was my fault."

"It was great, Syl. Really. We're doing it again soon. For real."

"Doing WHAT again soon? For real? Peepers, you'd better start spilling or I swear, there won't be anything left of you for Jeff to schedule next week."

Peepers stood there with an armful of flogs and crops. "Dag. I have Hater in the van, out front. Do you... do you mind if we just go back to the van and nap for a bit? And then we can take you out to breakfast when Jeff gets in and we can tell you the whole story? Two hours. I’m ready to pass out.”

She stood there, watching Wander hold up two fingers on each hand and look at her pleadingly, and then watching Peepers try to set the display rack back up and fail at it miserably. “Okay. Okay - you have time to nap until Jeff comes in. And then we are going to IHOW. Waffles are on you and your top billing.” Wander thanked her quietly and got up, shuffling back out the door. She picked his backpack up off of the floor and sighed. “Did you at least ask him?”

“We haven’t figured out the details but yes, it’s gonna be an actual date.”

“No, I meant about what he does day-to-day.” She reached for the items he was holding, exchanging them for the backpack, taking them gently and lining them up to put on the rack properly.

“Oh. Oh, he’s a psychotherapist.”

“And are you driving drunk?”

“Sober, sadly. I wish I had been drunk enough to handle tonight.” He put his hands in his jacket pockets and tried to recall exactly how much Wander had had to drink in case she asked this next. Greesh, it was like prom night all over again, minus the weird frilly dress shirt and the awkward personal space acknowledgement during the slow numbers.

She nodded. “I’m proud of you, buddy. Now go nap.”

Wander had opened the sliding side door of the van and left it open, waiting for him to come out of the store and climb inside before shutting it. “Waffles sound great, I’m excited,” he said quietly, laying down on a rolled up scrap piece of foam, trying not to wake Hater. But Hater was beyond gone, snoring away. Peepers took his jacket off and curled up under it as a blanket instead, and managed to get as far as googling for results on Wander’s profession on his phone, so he would have questions to ask during their actual date, before crashing into sleep.


End file.
